architect wouldn’t go to the cops, but Aidan had still shot him in the thigh, and Eoghan had to dig around in the wound to not only get the bullet out, but to make it look as though the guy had been slashed with a knife.
By that point, the poor bastard had been passed out dead cold. Still, I needed to make sure this wouldn’t come back on us, and that the man was being taken care of—I needed him back on site as soon as possible.
Hey, less of the fucking judgment. He shouldn’t have gotten into bed with us if he didn’t want to risk dancing with the devil.
The man was paid well for his services, and I had no doubt I’d be authorizing a bonus as an apology from Aidan very shortly.
Some hands took and others gave.
It was the way of it.
With that to deal with, as well as the fact she was going to be sore for a few days, I knew I wouldn’t be seeing her soon. Just being around her made me want to be inside her, and not only did I not need the break in focus, but she also needed some rest.
She wasn’t a cheap slut that I didn’t want to take care of, one whose state of being I didn’t give a fuck about.
She was mine.
I cared for what belonged to me.
“I’m not hungry,” she mumbled, dropping her gaze from mine.
“It’s clean out there,” I informed her briskly. If she was going to be around me, she’d have to get used to violence. It was an integral part of my world.
After swallowing again, she looked at me, and I knew she must have seen my inexorable stance. I wasn’t about to let her weasel out of stepping deeper into my home than this bedroom. She’d have to get used to the place—I was ripping off the Band-Aid instead of letting her concerns fester.
I straightened from my position at the door and held out my free hand. When she eyed it like it was a cobra, irritation rattled through me, and I had to force myself to calm down. I wanted to be gentle with her.
As far as yesterday’s plan was concerned, I’d gotten what I wanted. Her, in my bed, for a night. Usually that was enough, but now? It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
I’d flung my weight about knowing it would pressure her to sleep with me, but if I wanted her to keep coming back, I couldn’t be a bastard to her.
Trouble was, bastard was my usual state of being.
So, while I wanted to stride forward, grab her hand, and drag her down the hall, I didn’t.
I composed myself, waiting a good forty seconds with her nibbling her bottom lip as she finally crossed the short distance between us.
When her fingers slipped into my hand, I squeezed them. Not tight enough to hurt, but tight enough for her to feel that I wasn’t letting go.
She should get used to that feeling.
Tension strummed through her as we stepped out into the hall, but as we moved down the corridor and toward the salon, she released a soundless breath.
Relief was its principle source.
Rolling my eyes, I told her, “I’m many things, Aoife, but I’m not a liar. I won’t, and will not, lie to you.”
That had her head whipping to the side to gape at me—a move that I should have taken great offense over, but I didn’t. Couldn’t. In my line of work, whether it was the legit property development side of things or the shit I pulled for the Points, it could be said that we all needed the gift of the gab to get out of trouble.
Not me, though.
I didn’t lie.
In the Five Points, lying merely had someone above you in the ranks coming at you with a knife to slice out your tongue.
Aidan hated liars.
“Lying is a serious offense in the Five Points,” I told her gruffly, not sure why I was explaining but explaining nonetheless.
From the way her gaze was glued to the side of my face, I figured she was surprised, too.
“It is?”
“You know our reputation. Aidan O'Donnelly is a Catholic. Lying is a sin.”
A shaky breath soughed from her lungs. “I’m not him, though. You don’t have to tell me the truth.”
I snorted at that. “You’d be surprised how much easier life is when you don’t bullshit and you don’t lie. I tell you true—I will not lie to you.
“Last night, Aidan’s clean-up